


catch snitches, get stitches (fall in love)

by lovelivesinthedream



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Harry Potter!AU, M/M, OT12 - Freeform, brief mentions of past sehun/jongin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 15:34:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4751633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelivesinthedream/pseuds/lovelivesinthedream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jongin is arguably the best seeker South Korea has seen in almost two hundred years. Chanyeol is a creepy fan that Jongin might have a crush on. Maybe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	catch snitches, get stitches (fall in love)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and posted as part of the EXOLLIARMUS fic exchange on livejournal. All recognizable Harry Potter references belong to JK Rowling. I did some research and tried to create realistic names for the quidditch teams and magical locations in South Korea, but I don't speak Korean. There might be mistakes.

“Left!” Minseok shouts.

  


Jongin swerves to the left without a thought, blindly trusting his captain’s instruction. A bludger crashes through the air at breakneck speed. If he’d been a second later, it would have undoubtedly knocked him off the broom and sent him plummeting to the ground.

  


Minseok arches his arm back and expertly swings. A loud crack echoes in the air as the beater’s bat connects with the target; the bludger zooms toward the opposing team’s chaser with deadly accuracy. The girl yells out in shock and pain as it barrels into her; she misses the quaffle while trying to regain her balance. The ball lands easily in Luhan’s waiting hands.

  


Jongin raises an eyebrow in silent question—the captain isn’t usually quite so vicious. Minseok shrugs with a smirk before he makes a shooing gesture. Luhan is already moving into position to shoot the quaffle past the opposing keeper. Jongin nods in understanding: _they have a game to win, so he needs to stop playing around and get to work._ He tightens his grip on the broom handle, pulling up and speeding away to a higher vantage point.

  


High up in the sky, way above the other team’s spectator stands, Jongin hovers on his broom. From his position he has a clear view of the entire playing field. At times like this he feels like he’s an outside observer of a chess match instead of a pawn on the board. It’s so much easier to focus on spotting the little details when he detaches himself from the action.

  


“Found you,” he declares after only a few moments of careful scrutiny. A glimmer, a single second of golden shine, and he’s discovered his target. Like a leopard preparing to pounce, he leans forward and shifts his shoulders low. The winds bite against his face as he races toward the snitch. The roar of the crowd grows louder as he dives, faster and faster, straight for the VIP spectator box.

  


The snitch is flittering mockingly in the air. Jongin spares a fleeting thought to worry about crashing into the box, but he mentally shrugs and pushes on, coaxing the broom to speed even faster. The handle begins to vibrate in his clenched fingers, heating and shaking dangerously, but he can’t let up. In his peripheral vision he can see the other seeker closing in, and he’ll be damned if he’s going to lose. He’d never live it down. Not _now_ , with the media still scrutinizing his every move.

  


He’s going to win, and that’s all there is to it.

  


“Come on, come on,” he mutters, stretching out until he’s flat against the wood. He reaches, but it’s not going to be enough. Precariously, he grips the handle with his knees and slides until his upper body hangs dangerously off the edge of the broom. A brief, feather light brush of a wing against his fingertips until--“Gotcha!”

  


His triumph is short lived as he careens through the glass VIP box. There’s loud shouting and even louder cheering exploding around him. A large piece of glass is lodged in his shoulder, and there’s a series of cuts that sting across his face. The coppery taste of blood coats his tongue when he pokes at his split lip.

  


“Um…” says the bundle of long limbs he’s collided with. He warily blinks through the adrenaline induced haze and sees big ears, big eyes, and plump lips pulled in an ‘O’ of shock to reveal two rows of perfectly straight, white teeth.

  


Jongin bolts upright with a wince, nearly collapsing on the stranger a second time as he stands. “Shit, that was way more painful than I imagined. Sorry about landing on you.” He sheepishly offers a hand to help the stranger up, but pauses when he realizes the guy is too busy staring down at his bloody silver and purple _Gwangju Kumihos_ jersey. “I’ll buy you a new shirt!” There are a few particularly large splotches of crimson over the silver _88_ , and he notes, distantly, that it’s his own jersey number that the stranger is wearing. It makes him feel even worse for crashing into one of his personal fans. “I’ll autograph it for you and everything! O-or maybe you could have one I’ve worn in a gam—Wait, are you okay?”

  


The guy is staring from Jongin to the stained shirt, back and forth, with wide eyes. A second later, he tilts his chin down until it is tucked against his chest and smiles in, perhaps, the creepiest way Jongin has ever seen. Jongin begins to take a hesitant step back when he feels a rush of air behind him.

  


“Did you catch it?” Minseok asks breathlessly as he lands.

  


Jongin grins and holds out his left hand. His knuckles are bruised and scraped, and his whole body aches, but it’s all worth it when the snitch docilely flaps its metallic wings in the palm of his hand.

  


“Hell yes!” Minseok shouts victoriously. He grabs Jongin’s other hand and hauls him to the gaping hole in the VIP window. “Show them, Jonginnie.”

  


The stadium erupts with noise as he smugly holds up the snitch for all to see.

  


The commentator’s _sonorus_ charm can’t even be heard over the crowd’s excitement as the _Gwangju Kumihos_ are announced as the winners, securing their chance to play in the upcoming bi-annual _Asian Quidditch Cup_. Minseok easily maneuvers them both on to one broom—Jongin’s had been destroyed upon impact with the glass. He would be more upset, but it’s not the first broom he’s lost in the heat of battle out on a quidditch field, and, most likely, it won’t be the last. They land on the grass as the rest of the team touches down. Jongdae is the first to reach him, jumping up and down, and elbowing Jongin about a hundred times in the process.

  


“We did it! We won!”

  


“What do you mean _we_ , Kim Jongdae?” Kyungsoo asks, narrowing his eyes pointedly as he lithely slides off his broom. “Your ass was on the bench the whole time.”

  


“Hey,” Jongdae squawks indignantly. “The eleven of us are _a team_ , so when one of us wins, we _all_ win.” He glances around for support while Kyungsoo rolls his eyes so hard that Jongin is surprised they don’t fall out. Jinri nods encouragingly as she removes her beater gloves. Soojung is in the distance flirting (unsuccessfully) with Choi Minho, a chaser from the opposing team. Amber is off to the side signing autographs with a spell from her wand with a cheerful smile on her face, even though the match was too short for her to be able to sub-in for Jongin today. The other members of the team are still too busy celebrating to pay attention. “Whatever,” Jongdae mutters when he realizes that he has no backup. “If I had any say in the matter, I would have played today, Kyungsoo. You _know_ I hate being benched!”

  


“You _did_ have a say in the matter, Jongdae. Remember?” Junmyeon’s voice is scarily cold and flat. He glares down at the chaser like maybe it’ll finally be enough to make Jongdae act like a civilized human being. Spoiler alert: it won’t be. Junmyeon should have realized by now, but their manager simply won’t give up—it’s become some kind of personal mission for him to transform Jongdae into a more sophisticated person. So far, the results are not promising. “You were the one that chose to cast _Resilio Penne_ on the interviewer at the press conference last week! In front of fifty witnesses and three members of the IQB!”

  


Jongdae looks away, but not before Jongin sees the hurt in his eyes. Jongdae’s crush on the manager is a well-known fact amongst the team; Junmyeon, unfortunately, is the only one clueless to the situation. Jongin opens his mouth to step in before Junmyeon can continue and is promptly interrupted by a gentle pat on the back from Yifan.

  


“Chill, Jun. That asshole conducting the interview kept trying to bring up those pictures of Sehun and Jongin getting off in the locker-room. You’re lucky Jongdae shrunk that dude’s dick because I was five seconds away from removing his junk permanently.”

  


Junmyeon scowls up at Yifan. It is a look that he has perfected. Yifan raises an eyebrow in silent challenge. Thankfully, Yixing steps in.

  


“Language, Yifan,” Yixing mutters half-heartedly as he raises his wand to heal the cuts on Jongin’s blushing face. He frowns heavily at the shard of glass sticking out of Jongin’s right shoulder. “Jongin, you need to lay off the injuries, okay? I don’t think any other team’s healer has to work as much as I do.” He pouts cutely, just enough that Jongin knows he’s not really upset and is simply trying to make Jongin feel better. Talk of the scandal always upsets Jongin.

  


Sehun isn’t fazed at all. “It’s not a big deal, Jongin. People have sex all the time.” He reaches up and ruffles Jongin’s sweaty hair, smirking when Jongin grumbles in annoyance. “Besides, by this time tomorrow, all the front page pictures will be of your hand doing something much more important than _polishing my wand_.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and Jongin shoves him away with a small laugh.

  


“It was the other way around, and we’ve all seen the pictures that prove it!” he retaliates in a rare moment of lightheartedness since the wizarding papers first ran the article weeks ago. His cheeks burn in embarrassment. Sweat is beginning to itch as it cools against his skin, and his shoulder aches as Yixing’s spell stitches it back up—he’s very uncomfortable and doesn’t know where to look. There’s a speechless moment where they all try to comprehend that Jongin made a joke about the scandal that he’s been so stressed about, and then they’re all cheering and playfully shoving each other around. He lets out a relieved breath and doesn’t push Sehun away when he’s pulled into a quick hug.

  


“There’s my cute Jonginnie,” Sehun whispers against his ear as the rest of the team banters and annoys each other in the background. His voice catches, dropping the playful edge just enough for Jongin to hear the sincerity lying underneath. “I was beginning to think I lost my best friend.”

  


He squeezes back, fondness nearly overwhelming him after weeks of self-imposed distance. “You’re an idiot.”

  


“Yeah, maybe,” Sehun easily agrees. “But so are you.” Jongin can’t exactly argue with that, so he simply hides his relieved grin in Sehun’s shoulder.

  


“Let’s go celebrate!” Minseok shouts, breaking the moment, and it’s enough to make all of them stop bickering instantly. The captain always gets his way.

  


*****

  


A week later, Jongin is standing outside of Kyungsoo’s house feeling personally victimized.

  


“Socks are mandatory, Jongin.” Kyungsoo points to the small black and white sign attached to the grey brick-face of the house. It is a wooden sign that reads _House Rules_ in Kyungsoo’s curvy handwriting, and has been spelled to circulate through a list of requirements to enter the building. _Number 4: Socks must be worn unless sleeping, bathing, or swimming. Nobody wants to see your feet. That means you, Kim Jongin._

  


He groans, but dutifully pulls out his wand and transfigures a couple of candy wrappers from his pocket into a pair of socks. Kyungsoo’s face looks stuck between amused and exasperated when Jongin nearly trips as he toes off his shoes and tries to slide the socks on.

  


“Why did we have to do this at your house again?” Jongin grumbles. “The girls don’t even make me wear socks at their house.”

  


Kyungsoo, unsurprisingly, is not swayed by Jongin’s pouting. He stands guard diligently at the door until Jongin is done, and only once he has the red and white stripped socks on does Kyungsoo move aside and gesture for Jongin to enter.

  


“I wanted to introduce the team to someone,” he says by way of explanation as he nods toward the sound of voices coming from the dining room. Jongin peers closely, but Kyungsoo’s face gives nothing away.

  


“Someone like a _girlfriend_?” he teases, bumping his shoulder against Kyungsoo’s gently. “I bet your parents are pleased.”

  


“A boyfriend, actually.” He continues to walk toward the party going on in the other room as Jongin stands frozen, staring after his friend.

  


Do Kyungsoo swore off all guys back in their fifth year at Yongui Haneul, the international wizarding school just south of Incheon. His boyfriend at the time, a seventh year named Cha Hakyeon, had broken up with him at the Ball that was held every year on the night after Chuseok when all the students returned. Well, Hakyeon hadn’t so much broke up with Kyungsoo, as Kyungsoo had caught him making out with Jung Taekwoon on the terrace overlooking the garden. It turned out that Hakyeon and Taekwoon were neighbors when they were younger and had a sort of love/hate relationship that turned into a love/lust relationship over the Chuseok break.

  


Kyungsoo had been heartbroken at the time. It was only three years later when Hakyeon and Taekwoon had shown up together to support Kyungsoo during his first match as an official member of the _Gwangju Kumihos_ that he finally forgave them.

  


His new boyfriend must be someone very special if Kyungsoo is finally willing to end his ban on men.

  


By the time Jongin has recovered enough from his shock to follow the trail of laughter to the dining room, everyone else has already gathered around the large, black granite table. There are more people than he thought there’d be. Soojung is in the corner with Zitao laughing at Jongdae’s many failed attempts to make Junmyeon smile—straws in the nose to make him look like a walrus does not amuse Junmyeon, but Jongdae won’t give up. Amber is trying to convince her metamorphagus boyfriend, Donghae, to turn his hair green. Jongin shakes his head fondly and moves on. Yixing, Jinri, Sehun and Yifan are playing exploding snap. Jongin laughs at the smudge of grey soot on Sehun’s cheek; it is no surprise to anyone that Sehun is losing. He is notorious for his complete lack of patience.

  


Minseok and Luhan are closer to the bar, glasses of rainbow colored soju in both their hands, chatting with Kyungsoo and two people facing away from Jongin. He can’t tell who they are from their backs, but one of them must be Kyungsoo’s mysterious boyfriend going by the way Kyungsoo looks almost fond as he pokes the shorter man in the ribs when he makes a dirty joke about wands in pockets.

  


The taller stranger’s back hunches, shoulders shaking with a deep, loud laugh that reverberates in Jongin’s eardrums long after the sound has faded from the air.

  


“You guys are going to fit right in,” Luhan says with a mischievous smile. He takes a sip of his soju, and nudges Minseok with his elbow. “Jongdae is going to love them.”

  


“And Junmyeon will end up with an aneurism,” Minseok agrees sagely as Kyungsoo frowns and wraps a possessive arm around his boyfriend’s waist.

  


“Jongdae had better keep his sights set on Junmyeon or--”

  


“What’s a guy have to do to get a drink around here?” Jongin interrupts with a well timed smirk. It’s better to cut Kyungsoo off early: his threats are terrifying because he always follows through.

  


“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” The taller stranger is muttering, clutching dramatically to the arm of Kyungsoo’s boyfriend as he turns. He gasps and points at Jongin, nearly bouncing on his toes as he stares with wide, vaguely familiar brown eyes. “Baek!!” he shouts as he slaps excitedly at his friend’s arm, accidentally hitting the side of his face. “Baekhyun, it’s KIM JONGIN!!”

  


Baekhyun heaves a world weary sigh, the likes of which Jongin has only heard Junmyeon accomplish after arguing with Yifan about whether it’s appropriate to wear sandals with socks. (Yifan emphatically believes that it’s _not_ , but Junmyeon likes to use the look to spice up his striped, fuzzy sweater collection. Junmyeon’s still not over his resentment because Jongin agrees with Yifan, even though everyone knows about Jongin’s hateful feelings toward socks.) He pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes, shaking his head as he steps between the taller stranger and Jongin.

  


“Remember what we talked about before we apparated over earlier?” Baekhyun puts his hands on his friend’s shoulders and stares him straight in the eyes. “You were going to act cool in front of Kyungsoo’s friends, and I wasn’t going to have to tell Yura about what happened to her missing bra? Is this ringing any bells, Chanyeol?”

  


Chanyeol frowns, pouting cutely and nodding along until suddenly his mouth opens to protest. “But Baek! It’s _Kim Jongin_!!” He puts extra emphasis on Jongin’s name, both with his tone and with the wild wiggling of his eyebrows. “He’s only the greatest seeker that South Korea has had in the last two hundred years! On a broom, he is grace and beauty, and--”

  


Baekhyun mercifully claps his hands over Chanyeol’s mouth so the room doesn’t have to hear anymore. It’s already too late. Luhan and Sehun are both making kissy faces at Jongin, and Soojung and Jinri are nearly pissing themselves as they laugh in the corner.

  


“He’s standing right there, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun groans, dropping his hands away and stepping back. He turns to face Jongin and nervously scratches his head. “I’m sorry for my friend. He’s kind of a big fan of yours, and he gets a little overexcited sometimes, especially after drinking.” Jongin squirms uncomfortably as everyone in the room watches him for a reaction. Being a famous quidditch star has done nothing to alleviate his severe dislike of being the center of attention. Baekhyun takes pity on him and smiles softly. “Let’s try again. I’m Byun Baekhyun, Kyungsoo’s boyfriend. And this,” he shoves his friend forward, “is my best friend, Park Chanyeol.”

  


“Hello!” Chanyeol says a beat too late. He’s smiling widely, showcasing what must be every single tooth in his mouth, and maybe even some extra. His eyes are mismatched crescents when his cheeks rise, and it all seems like something Jongin’s seen before.

  


“Uh, hi,” he replies, slowly. He pulls his hand away and fidgets from foot to foot as the conversations begin to flow around them again. Jongin has always been the awkward sort around people he doesn’t know, and it’s not different now. How is he supposed to act in front of a fan? Especially, a fan that has such high expectations of him? Chanyeol will probably be thoroughly disappointed when he realizes that Jongin is really just a manga reading, puppy loving, broom riding dork.

  


He takes in the short black hair, styled up and off Chanyeol’s forehead. The tailored dark violet dress shirt, folded up past his forearms and tucked into tight black jeans, held up with a shiny black belt with a polished silver buckle in the shape of a bird. A phoenix, maybe.

  


“Erm,” Chanyeol squeaks. When Jongin looks up, Chanyeol’s cheeks and the tips of his ears are crimson.

  


“Here.” Yifan shoves a firewhiskey in Jongin’s hand. The glass is so cold that his skin sticks to it. It’s uncomfortable, but at least the magical glass will keep the drink cold no matter how long it sits out. Jongin must look confused because Yifan simply shrugs and says, “You looked pretty thirsty.”

  


Jongin splutters, choking on the sip he’d taken. “What?”

  


“You were staring at his crotch like you forgot Jjanggu in there, Jonginnie,” Yixing explains as he walks through on his way to the bathroom. Jongin chokes even more. Chanyeol’s eyes are huge in surprised delight, and a creepy, sly grin makes him look deranged.

  


Jongin makes a break for it and power walks over to the atrium off of Kyungsoo’s kitchen. It’s a much quieter, more peaceful place. There’s floor to ceiling windows that are enchanted to stay crystal clear to display the perfect view of the garden out back. Thin vines hang from the exposed steel beams of the roof. Long trails of leaves and flowers decorate the whole room and every inch of spare ground; a light lavender scent permeates the air. At night, lights glow along the foot path, leading to the stone fountain in the center of the room. It’s beautiful, and he feels slightly better already.

  


Sitting on the bench, he rests his elbows on his knees and ducks his head. He’s embarrassed, but that’s nothing unusual. The whole team is like a family, joking around and bickering like only family and very close friends can do. It’s not the first time he’s made a fool of himself in front of his friends, and it definitely won’t be the last, but it feels a million times worse to be caught acting like a fool in front of a fan--a weird, kind of creepy fan, but still.

  


“Hey, Kim Jongin,” a deep, soft voice says. Jongin jolts out of his self-reflection to see Chanyeol standing there, bathed in moonlight and the warm, yellow glow of the fairy lights. He shifts and drags a hand through his dark hair, and the light catches on a silver ring on his finger. Jongin glances away when he feels Chanyeol staring at him with imploring eyes and an uncertain smile. “So… Baekhyun says that I might have made a bad first impression--although, it’s really more of a second impression, I guess. The first, first impression probably wasn’t great either, right?” There’s a pause and a hopeful glance toward Jongin.

  


_What the hell is a first, first impression?_ Jongin is perplexed. Chanyeol is talking really fast and slightly louder than the socially accepted norm, so it takes him a minute to sparse through what he’s heard. And he truly has no idea what in the world Chanyeol is going on about. As far as he can tell, Chanyeol is a little weird, but he hasn’t been that much stranger than Jongin has been. Jongin is the one that had been caught staring at Chanyeol’s crotch after all.

  


He decides to be honest because his face has never been good at hiding his feelings anyway. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  


Chanyeol’s face falls, but he straightens after a quick second and smiles. It looks less genuine than before, but what would Jongin know. He’s only just met Chanyeol.

  


“Oh, that’s okay.” Chanyeol gestures toward the empty space on the bench, and Jongin nods for him to sit. He throws off a lot of heat. Jongin shivers at the warmth that’s now keeping the slight chill in the air at bay. “I guess you were probably distracted the first time we met, just catching the snitch and all. It was pretty memorable for me, though.” His laugh sounds self-deprecating as he stares down at his feet. Jongin feels the dawning tendrils of horror begin to rise in his chest. “I mean, how could I forget the day Kim Jongin fell in my lap?”

  


A sudden barrage images flash through Jongin’s mind: glass shattering, colliding with a solid wall of muscle, a bloody jersey, and a disturbing, unsettlingly cute smile.

  


“You’re the creepy fan I crashed into at the game last week?!”

  


“Uh… I guess?” Chanyeol’s brows are furrowed, and his lips are pursed. He looks upset. Jongin is ashamed to say that it does take him a complete minute to realize he just called Chanyeol, a fan and Baekhyun’s best friend, creepy. Out loud. To his face.

  


Jongin is such a failure. Kyungsoo is going to kill him.

  


Chanyeol is quick to rise to his feet. He towers over Jongin, but he’s curled into himself protectively as if to shield from whatever other wounds Jongin will unintentionally inflict upon him. He doesn’t try to meet Jongin’s eyes as he stuffs his hands in his pockets and sighs. “I actually have to get going. Early morning at the office tomorrow, you know? Please, just don’t tell Baekhyun about how embarrassing I’ve been.” Chanyeol’s face is carefree, at ease, but his voice is soft and rough. He does look up long enough for his dark, deep brown eyes to pierce, making Jongin’s breath catch in his throat. “It was nice to meet you again.”

  


Jongin is going to apologize. He’s going to explain that he hadn’t meant it the way it sounded. He is definitely not as much of an ass as he’s making himself seem right now.

  


Unfortunately, Sehun shows up and throws his arm over Jongin’s shoulder. “Found you! Wanna have some fun, Jonginnie?” His breath smells of soju as he snuggles his face in the crook of Jongin’s neck, nosing at his skin. Sehun is a very tactile drunk.

  


“Oh,” Chanyeol says on an exhale. He backs away quickly and disappears before Jongin can say anything at all.

  


*****

  


“I’m your biggest fan!” a tiny girl with jet black hair and dangerously high heels squeals. Jongin smiles and taps his quill against the moving picture she’s placed in front of him.

  


“It’s nice to meet you. Are you warm enough? It’s chilly today.”

  


She practically vibrates in excitement, making heart eyes at him so strongly that he’s surprised they don’t knock him over. There’s a lipstick imprint over his smile on the picture. He’s very uncomfortable, but he’s also very grateful for the support of his fans.

  


“Who should I make this out to?” he asks when she doesn’t say anything for a moment.

  


She nearly swoons as she leans closer. _“To my future wife, Irene. With lots of love, your Nini.”_ She places her hand on top of Jongin’s and smiles coyly. “That sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

  


It’s the same thing that a lot of his fans suggest. He has no clue on how to tactfully let her down, though. Outright saying he’s not interested would not go over well, but he doesn’t want to lead her on with false hope.

  


Junmyeon is watching from over by the register where he’s talking to the shop owner. Jongdae, Jinri, Amber and Zitao are happily joking around and signing autographs further down the table. Jongin is left to fend for himself.

  


He carefully moves his hand and writes on the picture quickly. “I can’t marry such a pretty girl. All the other guys would be jealous, wouldn’t they? For the sake of the team, I couldn’t do such a thing.”

  


Irene pouts and whines until Zitao glances over and winks at her. She turns bright pink and hurries on her way with Jongin’s autograph stuffed back in her bag.

  


Standing on legs stiff from sitting for so long, Jongin makes his way over to Junmyeon and requests a quick break. Junmyeon takes one look at Jongin’s sleepy eyes and tired frown and ushers him toward the door, slipping him money and telling him to get something delicious to eat. “Don’t come back until you feel better, okay? I’m sure Yifan or Soojung will come over and fill in for you if you need to rest. Let me know if you need to see Yixing!” he calls out as he shoves Jongin out the back door of the quidditch store.

  


He smiles to himself and shakes his head. Junmyeon tries to act all tough, but he’s honestly just a mother hen when it comes to the team.

  


Jongin sneaks around to the front of the building, doing his best to avoid the long, spiraling line of people still waiting to see the team. The heavenly scent of food catches his attention. With his head covered by the hood of his navy sweater, Jongin follows his nose to a small restaurant tucked in close to the South Korean Ministry’s Auror Headquarters. The tiny restaurant looks like a dwarf beside the towering ministry offices. It’s quaint and the scent of fried chicken leaking out the opened front door has Jongin’s mouth watering.

  


His stomach growls as he waits for his food after ordering. A nice older lady with gentle wrinkles around her eyes brings him over a steaming cup of tea and sets his table, promising his food will be out soon. He’s restless and anxious as he waits because he knows he should have stayed at the fansign event. Not to be full of himself or anything, but there were people that came to see him specifically. Won’t they be let down when he doesn’t show up? Jongin’s heart hurts at the thought of disappointing his fans.

  


Someone coughs across the tiny room, and Jongin’s eyes catch on the tall, thin frame of the man sitting by the large storefront windows. Chanyeol is there, sitting alone with a cup of something hot and steamy cradled between his large hands. The same silver ring sits on his middle finger. His clothes are professional and stylish, but not really suited for the cooler weather. His dark blue dress shirt hugs his body in the most delicious ways, but it doesn’t look like it puts up much of a fight against the late September chill.

  


Jongin is on his feet and standing nervously in front of Chanyeol before he even consciously makes the decision to talk to him. He still feels terrible about the way things happened at Kyungsoo’s get together a couple of weeks ago. Practice has taken up almost all of his time since then as the team prepares for the big match, so he hasn’t had a moment to find Chanyeol and apologize. Now is his chance and he’s going to take it!

  


“Hey, Park Chanyeol!” he says, perhaps a bit too loudly and with a nervous laugh in his voice.

  


Chanyeol looks up at him from under his eyelashes, confused and distant. “Hello.”

  


Jongin waits a second for more, but nothing else is forthcoming. Chanyeol is quiet and still as he sits there. It’s even more unnerving than when he’s loud and animated. This behavior makes Jongin feel uneasy.

  


“Can I sit?” he asks, gesturing toward the empty seat at Chanyeol’s table. Chanyeol shrugs and looks out the window. Jongin sits quietly for a few moments and studies Chanyeol’s profile. A strong jaw line, plump lips, the straight angle of his nose. Chanyeol is handsome. Like seriously, excessively, ridiculously handsome. How did Jongin miss the hot, molten heat of Chanyeol’s gaze the first two times they met?

  


“So,” Jongin begins, trying to break the silence. He clears his throat and toys with the napkin. “What brings you to Yojeong Golmog?” It _is_ the most popular wizarding district in South Korea, but Jongin is still surprised that they’re both there, in the same restaurant at the same time.

Chanyeol sighs and sets his cup down. He folds his arms across his chest and meets Jongin’s stare. “I work near here. Just on my lunch break.”

“That’s interesting!” Jongin practically jumps on the opening he’s been given. Anything to make Chanyeol stop acting so cold and weird. “What do you do?”

“Damn,” Chanyeol says, blowing out a big breath and standing quickly, gathering a light jacket and scarf from his seat. “My break’s almost over, and I still need to stop and get a gift for my dad.”  
 

“I’ll go with you!” Jongin rushes to stand.

Chanyeol gives him an indecipherable look before shaking his head. “It wouldn’t be good for people to see the famous Kim Jongin walking around with a creepy fan,” he says with a fake laugh. He winces. “Sorry, that was uncalled for. Thank you for offering, but you should stay. Eat. That chicken smells delicious.”

The lady is unobtrusively setting Jongin’s food in front of him. It _does_ smell and look fantastic. His stomach gurgles loudly, demanding that he eat, but he hesitates. He really, really wants to fix the mess he’s made with Chanyeol.

By the time the lady is done, Chanyeol is gone.

*****

They’re playing in a charity match against the _Seoul Samjokos_. Luhan, as vice captain, doesn’t want them to play today. The bi-annual quidditch cup is in eight days, and Luhan, rightly, is concerned that someone will get injured so close to the biggest game of their careers. Yixing wholeheartedly agrees.

  


Junmyeon says it’ll be great publicity, especially now that Jongdae’s suspension is up. They need to keep a nice public image, and it’s for a good cause--all the proceeds are going to be donated to local orphanages.

  


Minseok certainly doesn’t want anyone to get hurt, and while he fully supports donating to orphanages, his first concern is not the team’s public image. However, he does believe they need all the practice they can get if they’re going to have a fighting chance against the _Beijing Bonghwangs_. The Chinese national team has won the last four _Asian Cups_. Their managers have been trying to scout Yifan, Soojung and Kyungsoo since the moment they graduated school. If they lose the match, Minseok is afraid they will finally give in to temptation and leave the team.

  


Jongin thinks it’s stupid. They’re a family, and family sticks together whether they win or lose. Money isn’t going to tempt their friends away. Regardless of Jongin’s opinion, Minseok always gets his way, so they’re playing quidditch.

  


Kyungsoo tells them in no uncertain terms before the game that they have to win because Baekhyun came to watch, and he wants to impress his boyfriend. They all coo over how cute Kyungsoo is, but his deadly glare makes them keep their amusement quiet and mostly to themselves. Jongin can’t resist bumping his shoulder companionably against Kyungsoo’s just before they head out to the pitch, though. Kyungsoo returns the gesture with a soft grin and a nod.

  


It’s unseasonably hot and sticky. The sun is beating down harshly, blinding him whenever he tries to catch a glimpse of the snitch. Spectators are packed in the stands, waving their purple and silver or blue and gold flags to show which team has their loyalty. Jongin tries to convince himself that he’s not hoping to see Chanyeol when he looks for Baekhyun in the stands.

  


Yifan blocks the quaffle as Jongin flies behind the lowest hoop. Soojung swoops down to catch it, passing it off to Jongdae before the other team’s chaser can catch up. Jinri hits a bludger, knocking an opposing chaser off course. Kyungsoo stops a bludger from hitting Luhan, allowing Luhan to catch the quaffle and zoom toward the other team’s goal.

  


A spark of silver from the stands catches Jongin’s eye. He narrows his gaze to see Chanyeol waving his hands in the air, his ring glinting in the sunlight while he’s celebrating Luhan’s goal with Baekhyun by jumping around excitedly. He’s wearing ridiculous purple fox ears that stick up from his black hair. His eyes are mismatched crescents and his mouth is open in a too wide, kind of terrifying smile.

  


Warmth bubbles in Jongin’s chest, expanding until he feels light with it. He can’t hide his pleased grin. Minseok follows his line of sight to the stands and pats Jongin on the back fondly when he sees what has put the stupid smile on Jongin’s face.

  


Jongin flushes red and slaps Minseok’s hand away.

  


*****

  


They win by 30 points. It’s a team effort that leads to their victory.

  


“Good job, team! Zitao and Yifan’s excellent blocking skills need special praise. Luhan, Jongdae and Soojung did a fantastic job scoring,” Minseok congratulates them with a raise of his glass. “Kyungsoo, Jinri and Sehun, that was nice work with those bludgers. And Jongin,” Minseok says, ruffling Jongin’s hair despite Jongin’s protests. “You were amazing! I have studied this game for years, and I still don’t understand how that move was physically possible.”

  


“It’s not,” Yixing mutters angrily as he fusses with the stitches on Jongin’s leg. Jongin groans when it makes his re-growing bones stretch. “How many times do I have to tell you to be careful?”

  


Jongin ducks his head sheepishly, hiding behind his fluffy, freshly showered bangs. Luhan cuffs him gently on the back of the head. “He’s right, Jongin. We all want to win, and we appreciate your effort, but there’s no need to do things like that stunt you pulled tonight. You could have been seriously hurt.”

  


“Maybe our little Jonginnie was trying to impress someone,” Minseok teases playfully. Jongin flushes and hides behind Sehun to avoid all of them trying to pinch his cheeks and ruffle his hair.

  


The club is loud with partygoers all around them. Baekhyun shows up then with a sharp whistle and catcalls that can be heard even over the heavy bass. Kyungsoo frowns, but he doesn’t push Baekhyun away when he leans in for a kiss. Even if he acts grumpy, they all know he’s a romantic at heart.

  


Chanyeol stands hesitantly behind Baekhyun. His hands are in the pockets of his tight, dark jeans. His short, black hair is a mess. The purple fox ears are still on his head, and there’s purple and silver glitter on his face. The club lights reflect off the glitter, making Chanyeol appear beautiful and otherworldly.

  


The team moves on around him. Some go off to dance. (Sehun and Zitao are getting pretty graphic out on the dance floor. Junmyeon is going to have a coronary.) A few of the others wander over to a booth in the back that they’ve reserved for the night. Jongin tries to catch Chanyeol’s eye, but Chanyeol looks away, watching a girl that bumps and grinds her way across the room.

  


Jongin stands, ignoring Yixing’s earlier warning to stay off his leg for at least a day, and hobbles his way to the bar. He’s not going to sit around and watch Chanyeol chat up some random girl. It makes him angry to even think about it.

  


“You looking for a good time?” a pretty girl asks when he leans against the bar. She’s shorter than him with long, dark brown hair that is blue at the ends. White denim shorts show off her thighs, and a thin electric pink tank top clings to her frame. Her face seems familiar, but Jongin’s tired, slightly off kilter from the pain and potions Yixing has given him, and the alcohol he’s trying to order more of.

  


He starts to decline whatever she’s offering when he sees Chanyeol searching over the crowd. His dark eyes stop when they land on Jongin. A static charge seems to fill the air, hanging heavy and thick like the air before a storm. Chanyeol is tall and gangly. On the few occasions when they’ve met before, Chanyeol has been uncoordinated and clumsy. Watching him now, it’s hard to picture him as a newborn giraffe anymore. He moves with grace and stealth as he walks through the room to reach Jongin. It’s mesmerizing and predatory.

  


A dainty hand trails down his chest, resting heavy and warm over his navel. “Your drink is here, Nini. Have some and then we can go back to my place.”

  


Jongin takes a swallow of the drink and turns away, dislodging her hand in the process. He doesn’t like to be touched by strangers. She’s really pretty, and a distraction would probably be great, but Jongin doesn’t want anything from her.

  


Chanyeol saves him from having to explain.

  


“Yixing says you shouldn’t be drinking,” he says lowly in a dangerously deep tone. He takes the glass from Jongin’s hand and pushes it away. “You need to rest if you’re going to play in the _Asian Cup_.”

  


Jongin snorts and rolls his eyes. “Like you care what happens to me.”

  


Chanyeol frowns heavily.

  


“I’ll take care of you, Nini,” the girl cuts in with a seductive purr. Her fingers drag down his arm, and Jongin flinches.

  


“ _Nini?_ ” Chanyeol scowls and pulls Jongin into the protective curve of his body. “He’s injured and not thinking clearly right now. Back off, lady.”

  


She glares as Chanyeol guides Jongin away with a gentle hand on his lower back. Jongin doesn’t feel like moving away from his touch at all. The sounds of the club grow distant and quiet as they walk out the door and breathe in the fresh night air.

  


“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m so sorry for the stupid things I said, Chanyeol. I didn’t mean to call you creepy. I don’t think you’re creepy.” He’s babbling, face pressed against Chanyeol’s neck and breathing in his heady scent. Chanyeol is so warm and comfortable pressed up against him. Jongin doesn’t know where this honesty came from, but he feels light, carefree. “To be honest, I think your creepy smile is kind of cute. And I’m sorry that I didn’t explain it the right way before. Please don’t ignore me anymore.”

  


Chanyeol disentangles his arm from around Jongin’s waist. His eyes are wide and shocked, no longer cold. “I wasn’t ignoring you, Jongin.”

  


Jongin grumbles in disagreement and pushes his nose against Chanyeol’s ear, enjoying the shudder that wracks through Chanyeol’s body at the touch. Pleased and daring, he threads his fingers through Chanyeol’s hair and crashes their lips together. It’s hot and humid. Chanyeol’s lips are soft and firm beneath Jongin’s. He tastes like cherries and alcohol, and more. Jongin wants more.

  


When he traces Chanyeol’s plush lower lip with his tongue, Chanyeol groans and steps away. He looks pained as he stares at Jongin. “That girl, Jongin. The one at the bar. Did you drink what she gave you?”

  


“Um, yeah. A little bit before you took it. Why?”

  


Chanyeol swears. Everything happens in a blur. One second he’s standing beside Chanyeol, lips still tingling from the kiss, and then next second Chanyeol is gone while Yixing and Yifan guide Jongin home.

  


His leg hurts, but it’s his heart that kills him.

  


*****

  


“This is pointless. I’ve never taken _felix felicis_ ,” Jongin says angrily. His leg is still stiff from the day before, and he has a headache that none of Yixing’s potions can cure.

  


Junmyeon pats his back reassuringly. “I know. Everyone knows. This is just to make all the netizens stop spreading rumors.”

  


“Nobody on our team would ever use that stuff. We’re good enough without it,” Minseok chimes in, glaring at the ministry worker that is preparing to cast the detection spell.

  


“We have to do the test, Mr. Kim. It’s standard procedure.” Jongin nods in understanding, but Minseok doesn’t stop glaring. Junmyeon’s knuckles are nearly white where he holds his wand.

  


The ministry worker quickly and efficiently casts the detection spell. There are a lot of words that Jongin doesn’t understand and indistinct wand waving that he can’t follow. He doesn’t understand most of what’s happening, but he’s not worried. He’s never taken _felix felicis_ , so of course the spell won’t find anything in his system.

  


The tip of the ministry worker’s wand turns neon yellow as it hovers over Jongin’s wrist. An uneasy feeling churns in his stomach.

  


“What does that mean?” Junmyeon asks, concern etched on his face.

  


The ministry worker frowns as she writes something in an official looking book. Her face is grave when she answers. “It’s mean that within the last 12 hours, Kim Jongin has drank _felix felicis_.”

  


“Shit,” Minseok hisses. Everyone in the room agrees.

  


*****

  


‘ **Star Quidditch Player is a Fake** ’, one headline reads. The next says, ‘ **Kim Jongin’s Run Out of Luck**.’

  


Junmyeon is running himself ragged trying to fix the situation. The IQB is deliberating, trying to decide if Jongin being suspended is enough of a punishment, or if the team should be disqualified from the _Asian Cup_ in four days.

  


Jongin can’t leave his house. Reporters are camped in front of his door, peaking in his windows for a glimpse of the humiliated quidditch star. Fans that used to love him now send him howlers full of hateful yelling and painful slurs.

  


The team takes turns staying with him. The first few hours, Sehun and Jinri sit with him and pet his head until he falls asleep on the couch with tear stained cheeks. The rest of that evening, Luhan, Soojung and Amber stop by to make him eat. The second day, Yixing and Zitao hang around. Zitao pokes at Jongin until he finally caves in and showers. Yixing coos over him and wraps him in blankets, pumping him full of _pepper up_ potions and hot chocolate. Jongdae piles all the blankets on the floor and forces Jongin to cuddle with his three dogs curled up with them. Yifan shows up with a fuming Minseok when the sun sets. Minseok rants about how stupid reporters are and how unjust the media is until he’s blue in the face. Yifan refills their glasses of firewhiskey until they pass out sometime late in the night.

  


Jongin is woken early by knocking on his door.

  


“I’m going to punch them,” Yifan threatens as he stands from the chair and yawns. The knocking continues despite Yifan’s hateful glare. Minseok groans and buries his face under a pillow. “Hold the fuck on!”

  


Jongin snuggles further into the warm cocoon of his blanket, burrowing between Minseok and the back of the couch. He jumps when Yifan carefully shakes him awake.

  


“It’s for you, Jonginnie.”

  


Jongin whines, maneuvering himself up and over Minseok. His head hurts from drinking the night before, and his eyes are puffy from crying. He shuffles himself to the front door in a sleepy daze. He’s shocked into wakefulness when he opens the door to see Chanyeol standing on the other side.

  


Only Chanyeol. All the reporters that have been laying siege to his house have vanished.

  


“Where’d they all go?”

  


“Ah, about that,” Chanyeol says, scratching at his neck nervously. “There’s a lot we should talk about, Jongin. Can I come in?”

  


He wants to say no. His very first thought is to shut the door in Chanyeol’s face, and then hide himself back behind Minseok while Yifan putters around the house, taking care of them. But Chanyeol looks so hopeful as he stands there, like a giant puppy waiting for a treat. Jongin has always been weak for puppies.

  


Jongin sighs and leaves the door open, walking toward the kitchen to get some water and a potion to get rid of his hangover. The door closes behind him as Chanyeol quietly follows. Even listening closely for his footsteps, Jongin can’t hear anything. It’s strange.

  


He refuses to say anything while Chanyeol leans against the kitchen doorway and watches his every move with a guarded interest. After a few moments, Chanyeol rubs a hand over his face and starts talking in a rush as if he’s afraid Jongin won’t let him finish.

  


“My name is Park Chanyeol. My best friend is Byun Baekhyun, your friend Kyungsoo’s boyfriend,” he explains. He stares at Jongin, begging with his eyes for Jongin to listen. “You already know that, but I thought I should be thorough. My father is Park Chanyong, a member of the International Quidditch Board. And I-I’m an auror at the Ministry. For the last three months I’ve been investigating threats against you, Jongin.”

  


He nearly spits his water in Chanyeol’s face. “What the hell are you talking about?!”

  


Chanyeol frowns and looks away. “Three months ago, an anonymous person sent in a very detailed threat against you. It might have been a joke or a sasaeng, but my department takes threats very seriously. So I was assigned to investigate. Then at that game, you literally crashed into me.” He laughs humorlessly and shakes his head. “At first I only cared about you because you were work, an assignment I was given to take care of. After that match, it might have been because I thought you were amazing. The way you flew… Baekhyun, knowing you were Kyungsoo’s friend, thought he’d be doing me a favor if he introduced us. I was a complete weirdo, and when I talked to you in the atrium, I realized you probably didn’t want anything to do with me. I didn’t want you to see me as just some creepy fan.”

  


“I didn’t mean what I said that day, Chanyeol,” Jongin cuts in with a pout. Chanyeol shrugs and nods slowly.

  


“I know, but the truth is that I didn’t handle meeting you very well. I was going to do my best to stay away from you; it’s unprofessional to take a personal interest during an investigation, anyway. It didn’t help that Kyungsoo and Jongdae would always tell us cute things about you when they came to hangout with Baekhyun. The more I learned about you, the more I liked you. So I tried to stay away and do my job, but then you showed up that day at the restaurant and acted like you might want to be friends. I didn’t know what to do, Jongin.” He drags a hand through his hair and huffs, shoulders slumping in defeat.

  


“I was ready to forget about you, to pretend I didn’t feel anything, until Baekhyun dragged me to the charity match. You’re something unworldly when you fly, you know? It’s breathtaking. Really reckless and dangerous, but graceful and fluid. It’s impossible not to watch while you fly.”

  


Chanyeol’s cheeks and the tips of his ears turn scarlet. Even though he’s clearly embarrassed by the admission, he doesn’t lose the serious set of his eyebrows and the downward curve of his lips. He looks at Jongin and burns him with the determined fire in his eyes.

  


“The girl at the bar spiked your drink while you weren’t looking. That’s why I took it from you and tried to get you out of there. I wasn’t sure what she did, but I did see when she poured the vial in. Outside,” he says, voice dropped low and ragged, “when you—I mean, when we kissed, I was terrified that she’d slipped you a love potion of some sort. I left you with Yixing to get checked out and went back inside to find her. She’d already run away by the time I got inside, but I was able to find her with a tracking spell on the potion in the glass.”

  


Jongin stands there, speechless and numb as he stares at the condensation on his water glass. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to feel. Grateful that Chanyeol stopped him from leaving with the girl that night? Pissed off for being drugged? Glad that at least Chanyeol didn’t push him away because he hates him? Worried that some faceless stranger has been making anonymous threats on his life?

  


“W-what happened with the investigation?” is all he can manage to push past his heavy tongue.

  


Chanyeol straightens up. The air almost shifts around him as he slips into his professional mode. “I found her, Jongin. The person that was threatening you and the girl from the bar are the same. Her name is Bae Joohyun, goes by the name of Irene most of the time. She is a delusional fan. After the news of you and Sehun got out, she snapped. If she couldn’t have you, then nobody could type of thing. There are two gwishin keeping an eye on her in a holding cell at the Ministry for now. Once the council determines her punishment, she’ll be moved to a more secure facility.”

  


“That doesn’t help our situation now, though, does it?” Minseok asks harshly, surprising Jongin with his entrance. His hair sticks up at odd angles, and there’s drool on his chin. He’s still intimidating even as a sleep wrangled mess.

  


“It does! The Ministry has already released a statement, first thing this morning, clearing Jongin of all charges. She placed the _felix felicis_ in his drink that night, long after the charity match and completely without his knowledge.” At Minseok’s unconvinced frown, Chanyeol barrels on. “I talked with my dad, too. He arranged a private meeting with IQB for me, so I could explain the situation. In light of the evidence, Jongin’s indefinite suspension has been rescinded, and the team is definitely able to compete in the _Asian Cup_ on Saturday.”

  


Minseok raises an eyebrow, impressed. “Good job, Chanyeol. I give you my blessing.” As Jongin splutters and chokes in embarrassment, Minseok ushers Yifan out the door, throwing a wink over his shoulder.

”I-I should go.”

  


Jongin thinks fast, runs through all the thoughts and feelings he’s had about Chanyeol since the very first time they met. Yeah, initially, Chanyeol had come off as kind of creepy, but he’s so much more than that. Hadn’t Jongin been worried that Chanyeol would be disappointed because he was a massive dork? Was it really fair of Jongin to judge Chanyeol based on the funny faces he made, or his excited behavior on one occasion? Is that enough to let Chanyeol walk out his door right now?

  


“No!” Jongin yells quickly toward Chanyeol’s retreating back. “Wait, Chanyeol. Don’t go.” He catches Chanyeol’s sleeve in his hand and holds on tight. “I-I’m not under any love potion right now, and I want to kiss you. May I kiss you? Is that something you want too?”

  


Chanyeol nearly growls as he spins around and drags Jongin into a searing kiss. His breath is hot and sweet, his tongue heavy and swift as it slips past Jongin’s lips. He pulls their hips together, holding Jongin tight. Jongin laces his fingers through Chanyeol’s hair, tugging until Chanyeol groans and nips his bottom lip.

  


“You’re so beautiful, Jongin,” Chanyeol breaths out as he stares at Jongin’s swollen lips and flushed face. He slips his hand under Jongin’s shirt, trailing his rough fingers against Jongin’s heated skin.

  


“You don’t have to be so careful.” Jongin laughs while he dances away and pulls his shirt off. His hair is disheveled, but Chanyeol still looks at him like Jongin is the most precious thing he’s ever seen. “I’m not going anywhere. You can touch me.”

  


As if he’s just spoken the magic words, Chanyeol surges forward and attaches his mouth to Jongin’s neck. He sucks and nips, tracing skin with a talented tongue and plenty of finesse. One hand brushes across Jongin’s ribs, the other plays with the edge of Jongin’s sweatpants, dipping below the surface temptingly before darting away.

  


Frustrated and yearning for more, Jongin grunts and shoves Chanyeol away. He kisses Chanyeol sloppily while tearing his fancy buttons off. The maroon silk falls open, revealing lightly toned abs and pecs. His skin is so smooth and soft beneath Jongin’s lips. His tongue laps against the dusky pink of Chanyeol’s nipple, rumbling in delight as Chanyeol pulls him closer.

  


Jongin removes Chanyeol’s belt, leaving it hanging open as he unbuttons Chanyeol’s pants and falls to his knees. He nearly comes undone when he sees the patch of precum dampening Chanyeol’s white briefs. He only gets a fleeting taste, licking at the wetness for a moment, and then Chanyeol is pulling him to his feet and kissing him again.

  


“Can we-” Chanyeol tries to ask. Jongin cuts him off by pushing him into the wall and grinding against him.

  


“Yeah. Yeah, anything, Chanyeol.”

  


Chanyeol moans into the kiss. When they part, he slowly, sensually takes Jongin’s sweatpants off, leaving him bare. “I want you so badly,” he whispers, dark and promising as he guides Jongin until Jongin is bent over, hands resting on the back of the couch. His touch is reverent and scorching while he palms Jongin’s ass. He whispers a spell once and then twice. After a moment, Jongin feels a cool tingle along his skin.

  


“Protection spells,” Chanyeol explains, dotting kisses down Jongin’s spine. He takes his time when he reaches his destination. Jongin is flushed and shaking, waiting in anticipation for the moment when Chanyeol’s tongue drags across his entrance. He cries out, clutching at the cushions under his fingers as Chanyeol goes to town. It’s wet and hot, so hot, and Jongin aches for more.

  


“Please, please,” he begs, broken and needy.

  


“Shhh,” Chanyeol reassures him. Jongin turns his head to watch Chanyeol stand and wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. His mouth is still red and shiny, debauched. The maroon shirt hangs off his shoulders, and his pants hang open around his hips. Jongin feel himself leaking against the couch. “I’ve got you, Jongin. I’ll take care of you.”

  


Chanyeol’s gaze is fire, but his touch is a kind balm. He casts another spell, this time wandlessly, and Jongin feels his thighs slick with lubrication.

  


“Why is that so hot?” he groans, trying to muffle the noise with the cushion by his face. Chanyeol smirks and moves Jongin’s thighs together. He situates himself behind Jongin and moans deeply when he pushes his hot cock between Jongin’s slick skin.

  


Each of Chanyeol’s thrusts pushes Jongin, moving him up and hitting him in all the right places. He can feel Chanyeol’s pants digging into his skin with each collision of their bodies. His own cock is pressed tightly against the couch, trapped in beautiful friction. Chanyeol drapes himself over Jongin, chest to back. One hand clutches Jongin’s hip and the other holds Jongin’s hand. His breath fans across Jongin’s cheek, and messy kisses dot Jongin’s neck, shoulder, any part Chanyeol can reach.

  


“I-I’m not going to last, Jongin,” Chanyeol warns raggedly. Jongin squeezes his thighs together more tightly and begins to thrust his own hips back, meeting each of Chanyeol’s moves.

  


“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Jongin chants, aching to feel Chanyeol come apart. “Do it, Chanyeol.”

  


Three erratic thrusts later, Chanyeol pulls away and jerks himself off, splattering his release across Jongin’s ass. Jongin cries out as Chanyeol kneels down to lick the mess away. It’s more than he can take, and he comes, untouched, across the back of the couch.

  


They slump together, sweaty and sated, to the floor. Chanyeol sprawls on his back, and he makes a pleased hum when Jongin curls into his side. For once, Jongin is content.

  


*****

  


“We have to stop meeting like this,” Chanyeol murmurs into Jongin’s ear. Jongin is splayed across Chanyeol’s lap, surrounded by broken glass and screaming fans.

  


He laughs and kisses Chanyeol quickly. The game is still continuing around them, so he doesn’t have time to dawdle and makeout with Chanyeol the way he wants to. He’s high on adrenaline and endorphins, the rush of the chase still racing in his veins.

  


The snitch flutters it’s wings, tickling his palm. Chanyeol’s eyes nearly glitter with pride and happiness as he kisses Jongin again. When he finally pulls away, Jongin notices the shirt he’s wearing. It’s a faded purple and silver, the _88_ peeling at the edges. It’s Jongin’s lucky shirt from the very first match he’d played as a member of the team.

  


With Chanyeol wearing it, he thinks it’s even luckier.

  


“Gross!” Baekhyun yells through a laugh. “I regret introducing you two. If I’d known this would be my fate…” He shakes his head dramatically, but he can’t keep the smile off his face as he says it.

  


“You’d better have the snitch in your hand, or I am going to--” Minseok threatens with an aggrieved shout as he lands behind Jongin in the broken glass of the VIP spectator box. He stops when Jongin smugly displays his capture. “We won! Holy shit, we won the _Asian Quidditch Cup_!! Come on, we have to show everyone!”

  


Jongin wastes one more second to commit Chanyeol’s smile to memory before he has to go face the chaos of flashing lights and exuberant fans. He pecks his boyfriend on the cheek and stands, making his way over to Minseok’s waiting broom.

  


Later, when the interviewer asks him how he achieves such death-defying stunts while going after the snitch, Jongin thinks of Chanyeol’s creepy smile when he tucks his chin to his chest and grins, thinks of the way the team is a family that sticks together no matter what, and he knows exactly what to say. “I would be nothing without the team, and my number one fan. The only reason I can achieve anything is because of their love and support.”

The End


End file.
